


That Time The Bifrost Threw A Tantrum (And Something Good Came Of It)

by BananaWombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, I mean who wouldn't they're adorable, I wrote this at like 1am forgive me, I'm getting everyone on the Thunderbird train if it kills me, M/M, Sam Wilson can lift Mjolnir, Thor is smitten, and his kids definitely ship him and Thor, basically everything is canon, because Sam Wilson would be an excellent dad, because of fucking course he can, choo choo motherfuckers, except Sam has kids?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaWombat/pseuds/BananaWombat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up to an alien in his backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time The Bifrost Threw A Tantrum (And Something Good Came Of It)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is a slightly different universe, but here's the explanation:  
> Sam and Riley were a thing, and adopted three children (Joseph, Hannah, Layla) when they presumed their military careers had drawn to a close. However, they were called out for one last tour/mission and Riley died (poor Riley). Sam is canon Sam, except with kids (because kids are fun to write and Sam would be a brilliant dad).  
> It all takes place after the events of Avengers, but just before the whole Hydra blow up in Cap 2. Also, Thor has met Jane and the science crew, but isn't dating anyone.

It’s a normal Tuesday morning, really. Sam wakes up around six o’clock, does a few miles on the treadmill while the kids are still asleep, showers, and calls up the stairs for them to wake up.

He’s just heading to the sink to rinse out the water bottles for lunchboxes when he notices the giant crater in his garden.

He just manages to keep it together long enough to pack the lunches, get them all toast and OJ, and hustle them out the door to the school bus, before he’s grabbing a rake and edging out into the yard, trying not to seem too afraid. _I mean, you don’t wake up to see a giant freaking hole in your backyard every day, right?_

On top of the (now noticed to be smoking, to boot) giant freaking hole, the door of the shed is torn off and one of the windows smashed. There’s also a – _what even is that?_

Sam tiptoes nearer to the lip of crater. It’s not massive, really, but it’s certainly not small. A few meters across. What could have caused - ?

_There’s an alien in my backyard._

The fact states itself almost clinically in his head as Sam stares, frozen, down at the giant blond man wearing funky-looking armour lying in the middle of the ruined garden. The guy looks human, or at least very humanoid, but it’s highly unlikely he fell out of a plane and just happened to cause such massive destruction.

Flipping the rake to point handle-out, Sam reaches forward, and pokes the alien in the side.

“WHO DARES ATTACK THE SON OF ODIN?”

The alien flies up, dramatic red cape swirling, voice bellowing. Sam jumps back, dropping the rake, letting out a squeaking sound. “Shit! Shit! Don’t kill me! Sorry! Shit!”

The alien whirls for a few more seconds, long blond hair flying and arms flailing, before finally seeming to notice that Sam is, in fact, not an immediate threat.

“Who might you be?” the alien says. His voice is lower, but not by a huge amount. It’s also deep, and sounds distinctly British.

“Uh,” says Sam, “Sam Wilson? 58th pararescue? Human?”

The alien cocks an eyebrow, seemingly assessing him. “Midgard. The Bifrost was shaky.........I will have to wait for Heimdall to contact me when it is functional. Have you perhaps seen Mjolnir?”

“Mjolwhat?”

“Mjolnir.” He makes a vague gesture with his hands. “A large hammer.”

Sam turns his gaze to the door-less shed, squinting slightly. The grey thing he originally thought of as a rock – some kind of space rock – had a handle.

“Hold on,” he tells the alien. Of course, the alien decides to move, and Sam says, “no, really. Hold on. You don’t look so steady on your feet. I’ll get it for you.”

The alien opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it when Sam walks past him, skirts the broken glass from the smashed window, and wraps a hand around the leather-bound handle.

It lifts surprisingly easily for something so heavy-looking, and Sam holds it back out to the alien man still standing in the middle of the crater. It takes the alien ten full seconds and a small nudge from Sam when the silence starts to get awkward to take the hammer. His stare is penetrating now, as if something had just happened that he could not for the life of him have predicted.

“So, what’s your name?” Sam asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, wondering if his kitchen is actually big enough for this giant to fit in.

“Thor,” he says after several more moments of staring. “Son of Odin. Pleased to meet you, Sam, Son of Wil.”

* * *

 

So that was how Sam ended up with a handsome alien in his kitchen, drinking instant coffee out of a mug with a chipped handle, while Sam discreetly cleans up the leftover crumbs from this morning’s breakfast.

“So, uh, Thor,” Sam says, “where are you from?”

Thor slurps his coffee. “Asgard.”

Sam nods. “Right. Where is that again?”

“It is one of the Nine Realms, as is Midgard,” Thor replies, and waves his mug to indicate their surroundings. “I've been told Midgardians call it Earth.”

“Yeah, we do,” Sam says, still half not believing he’s having this conversation. _Well. He’s flown through the air on literal wings before. What difference does an alien make?_   “What’s the deal with the hammer?”

“Mjolnir?” Thor says. Both their eyes  glance to it where it’s hanging almost comically off of one of Sam’s coat pegs. “It is my favoured weapon.” He gives Sam a strange look. “One not many can use.”

“What does that mean?” Sam says.

Thor tells him.

Sam makes him another mug of coffee.

* * *

 

Thor makes another appearance a week later, but this time without the crater. Sam doesn’t tell Layla or Hannah or Joseph about the extraterrestrial visit, and Thor rather courteously propped the shed door back into place and cleaned up both the glass and the crater – how, Sam will never know – while Sam was out working at the VA.

Hannah answers the door while Sam is in the middle checking his emails, at half past six in the early evening. She comes trailing back into the kitchen, her nose wrinkled up. “There’s a weird blond dude asking to see you?”

Sam knows a few blond dudes, but he checks. “British?”

“Sounded like it.”

Sam blows out a breath. “Let him in, then.”

She trails back out and Thor appears a few moments later, decked out in a checked shirt and jeans that are so normal they’re kind of strange-looking on him.  

“Hey,” Sam greets him, still tapping away at his laptop. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop in, say hello,” Thor says, and he smiles. It’s a little blinding.

“First time dropping wasn’t enough?” Sam quips, and the smile widens.

“Seems not.”

There’s a small sucking sound, and Layla appears, thumb in mouth, gazing wide-eyed up at Thor. Sam holds his breath. His youngest doesn’t always take well to strangers.

She takes her thumb out of her mouth, holds out a hand, and says, “wanna play Snap?”

“’Snap’?” Thor echoes. “You must teach me this Midgardian game.” And he took Layla’s hand in his large one.

Sam watches them disappear into the living room, and questions whether he’s dreaming, because a large blond alien with a magical hammer is currently being taught how to play Snap by his daughter.

* * *

 

It doesn’t stop at that, either. Thor makes more frequent appearances from there on out, chatting happily to Joseph (who’s envious of Thor’s biceps) and Hannah (who says he has surprisingly good taste in music, for an alien), is taught by Layla how to play a variety of Midgardian games (although he confesses to Sam afterwards that he already knows how to play them), drinks most of Sam’s coffee, and does little odd jobs around the house.

 _He’s probably feeling guilty because he temporarily wrecked my garden_ , Sam decides, and engages Thor – who is lying on his back fixing the leaking pipe under the sink – in a playful conversation about the pros and cons of grilled cheese.

* * *

 

Sam meets Captain America on his third week of trying outdoor running. Steve Rogers is.......not exactly what you would expect of a national icon. Sam clued in on that when the asshole said “on your left” for the third time.

Somehow, Sam doesn’t mention Thor’s almost daily visits – _surely the Bifrost must be drained – unless it had bottomless power? – whatever, space science_ –all in all, Sam has been doing pretty great this past month. Weird, but great. He has an alien-thunder-god-prince-whatever-the-hell-the-rest-of-his-titles-are helping him pack peanut butter sandwiches for his kids’ lunches, and Captain America has lengthy text conversations with him that are sometimes deep and sometimes nonsensical. There are also strange little things turning up around his house – a bunch of flowers he’s not able to identify, a bracelet he thinks might be made of gold, a new pair of running sneakers a size too small.

It’s Layla that provides the push.

“So when are you and Mister Thor getting married?” she says out of the blue, scooting her game marker into the winning square.

If Sam had been drinking something, he might have spat it out. “What gave you that idea?”

She blinks at him innocently. “You’re always making eyes at each other and he’s always here.  And he’s always doing nice stuff for you. Did you see those flowers he left for you on the windowsill? I think they’re really pretty. And I _told_ him your feet weren’t that small.  Can I have the last of the Lucky Charms?”

Sam nods, and she hops off her chair, dashing away gleefully to devour sugary cereal. Sam sits there for a few more moments, staring at the painted snakes and ladders on the board.

An alien prince has been trying to court him – that’s the word Thor would probably use – for over a month.

In the back of his head, a voice says, _well, it was kind of obvious._

Sam has to agree.

“Layla says you’re marrying Thor,” Joseph says as he walks into the kitchen, sounding interested.

“I’m not marrying him,” Sam replies, almost on autopilot. Then, “but I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

There’s a distinct _whooshing_ sound and a heavy clatter outside, followed by a swish of red cape.

Joseph pokes him lightly in the shoulder. “Are you going to bring up the date or shall I?”


End file.
